


The more things change

by JamesMcMullen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, I mean for a given value of a happy ending, also an oblique Tim Hortons reference, because you can take the Jim out of Canada, but you can't take the Canada out of Jim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-24 09:09:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10738593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesMcMullen/pseuds/JamesMcMullen
Summary: Even after all the years and hardships and horrors, the old guard hadn't changed. They were still the same people Reinhardt had grown to love.The only problem was that he wasn't the same person he'd been back then.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little AU based off of this tumblr post: http://coelasquid.tumblr.com/post/159905440308/true-story  
> Also, I'm crap at titles, and I have very little familiarity with the lore outside of the basics, so ConCrit is always welcome!

The Beast was massive. Far larger than anything Reinhardt had ever seen or fought before. Save the Titans, of course, but he had an entire Strike Team with him when those monsters rampaged across the battlefield. Its shoulders were humped with snow, and had his armour not shown its heat signature, he would have sworn it was a hill, rather than an Omnic.

A smile crept across his face as he stalked through the drifts and into the clearing. A challenge, finally! So many years had gone since he had faced a worthy opponent in single combat that he feared he had gotten soft. He raised his hammer and shouted, the amplifiers in his armour sending his cry echoing through the forest.

The Beast swiveled its head and turned to face him.

"It's charging some sort of energy cannon," Brigitte's voice floated softly into his ear. "Looks high-intensity, probably plasma. Field up."

"Ja, Brigitte," Reinhardt said, rolling his eyes as a wall of blue energy appeared before him. "This is not my first waltz, you know."

"Can you even remember your first waltz, old timer?" she shot back cheerfully.

The Beast settled back on its haunches, the massive barrel over its shoulder glowing and heat-hazed.

"Anna Birgitta Lindholm, I have half a mind to tell your father-" A sudden flare and a burst of static were the only warning Reinhardt had before the barrier field dropped and he was spun around, smoke trailing lazily into the sky from where his left pauldron had been.

"Are you all right?" Brigitte's voice drifted through his helmet, nearly drowned out by alerts and alarms. "Reinhardt?"

***

"Reinhardt?" The voice was familiar, reaching across years and distances he could barely remember. "Reinhardt, love, is that really you?"

He whipped around, a smile stretching across his face. "Lena!" he bellowed as he charged across the room and scooped her into a tight embrace. "You haven't aged a day, little one!"

"I gave them all to you, old timer," she teased as she wrapped her arms around his bullneck. "Are you all right? Where have you been?"

"Oh, a little worse for wear, but nothing Brigitte cannot fix," he said as he set her down. "And you know how life can be. Righting wrongs, triumphing over evil, saving the world: It does not lend itself to staying in one place for too long. Tell me, what have you been doing?"

"Well, you know, more of the same," she said with a smile. "But Emily has kept-"

"Emily? Who is this Emily?"

"Oh, well," Lena's cheeks flushed as she scratched the back of her head nervously.

"Well, she's actually my girlfr-" the word was choked off as Reinhard lifted her in a massive bearhug.

"Girlfriend!" he cried, dancing a small circle as Lena flopped in his arms. "I am so happy for you! Tell me all about her, where did you meet? When can I meet your Schatz? What kind of flowers does she like? I will be sure to bring her some!"

***

"Lilies," she said, quietly enough that she thought he couldn't hear him. Her French had improved considerably over the last month. "They're his favourite. Yes, please. And some Canadas and Dimensions if you could, as well. Thank you."

He stirred in bed, a dull ache in his shoulder. He looked at the blood-crusted bandage and chuckled. "You know," he said weakly, "I think that every florist in Québec will soon be out of lilies."

Brigitte came into the room, doing her best to hide the exhaustion on her face. "Well, if you would just die already they wouldn't have this problem, would they?"

Reinhard smiled sadly and winced as he shifted his head. "I do not think we have to worry about that for much longer, Liebchen. My time is coming close."

"No it's not, you old fool," Brigitte said as she rummaged through the medical supplies that the hospital had given her. "You're not going to die, and as soon as you can be moved we're going to get you to somewhere with proper medical facilities. Montréal or Québec City. Somewhere-" her voice cracked. "Somewhere you can recover."

"Brigitte," he said, patting the bed. "Sit. We need discuss what will happen next."

***

"I can tell you what will happen next, if you would like, old friend." The blinking lights of the computer banks glinted dully from the chessmen, and Winston took a moment to appreciate the familiarity of it all. Just like old times.

Reinhardt cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "Can you, now?"

"Of course," Winston said as he scratched absently at his chin. "You're going to take my bishop with your rook, and then I'll take that pawn there," he gestured to the board, "and I'll put you in check. Then you'll only have one move left to make before this pawn here puts you in mate."

Reinhardt looked at the board and frowned. He was right, of course. Winston was always better than him at chess, and even after all these years, he had yet to beat him.

Winston looked at Reinhardt and smiled. "Did you want to call the game now, and go for a drink? It's late but there's a bar nearby that makes an excellent daiquiri."

Reinhardt shook his head as he reached out and moved the sole knight on the board. "Not yet, my friend," he said as Winston leaned forward, suddenly engrossed with the new layout of the board. "You'll find that I have picked up a few tricks since last we played."

***

Brigitte doesn't tell him what's happening, but she knows he can tell.

She's been talking to the Man in Numbani for days, sending him files and transferring huge amounts of money from accounts that she shouldn't have had access to. She spares no expense, spends hours negotiating and touching up specifications and plans that are sent to her.

The Man had asked, once, why she wanted what she was ordering, but after she blistered his ears with words even her father had likely never heard, he did not ask again.

Reinhardt watches this all in silence, understanding why she does it, even though he insisted it was an unnecessary contrivance.

"You'll thank me for it one day," she says. "You will."

He laughs, harder than he has in months, hard enough that he winces, and she feels a twinge of guilt. He can barely speak now, and she knows she is running short on time.

The bay is a mess. Every spare centimetre is covered in machinery. Hydraulics and myomers and relays and switches and who knows what else are strewn about. The Suit - its left pauldron restored, the holes blasted through it patched, only the scorch marks and shine of new armour to suggest the catastrophe that had happened in it - stands ominously silent, judging her.

She doesn't notice the burns on her hand from the soldering iron. She's forgotten the last time she had anything other than cold coffee and stale pastries from the shop down the road. She buys three litres of their brew and a dozen donuts every morning. She stopped trying to understand why the locals love it so much, and it had simply become part of her routine.

Wake up. Check on Reinhardt. Get coffee and donuts. Check on Reinhardt. Work on the Suit. Check on Reinhardt. Argue with the Man in Numbani. Check on Reinhardt. Work on the Device. Check on Reinhardt. Work until she passes out. Wake up. Check on Reinhardt.

She hasn't showered in a week. She doesn't care.

Four more days and everything is ready.

It's almost too late.

Reinhardt's body is shrunken. Smaller than it has any right to be. She brings out the Device. Presses it to his head, and hopes.

***

"You're alive!" Reinhardt roared as he wrapped Jack in a massive hug. "I drank Essen dry and flooded the Danube with my tears because of you, you bastard!"

Jack stiffened, awkward in the embrace of his old friend. "Yes I am," he said slowly. "And you're the same as always, aren't you, Reinhardt?"

"Of course I am, Commander!" Reinhardt swung around, dragging Jack with him as he made his way towards Lena, Winston, and the others. "Come, my friends, we have much to celebrate!"

***

Brigitte looked tired. So very tired. He tried to ask her what was wrong, but his voice wouldn't work. His mouth refused to move. He looked around. He was in his armour again, everything looked the way it should, but felt wrong.

He fought down a surge of panic. She was staring at a monitor, hammering at a keyboard and stealing quick glances at him. Her mouth was moving. "-cond." Her voice suddenly came bright and clear. Clearer than he could remember. "Can you hear me, Rein?"

His body was at once light and impossible to move. He tried to speak. Nothing.

She must have seen something on the monitor and, after a moment more of furious typing, she turned to face him. "Try again," she said, warily.

"I can hear you," he said, in a voice that was distinctly not his. "When did you last sleep, Leibchen?"

She seemed to deflate, stress suddenly leaving her body. "It's you," she said, collapsing against the chest of his armour.

***

"It really is you, isn't it?"

Reinhardt froze, and turned slowly to face the speaker. He reeled. She looked almost exactly the same as her mother. The tattoo was under the wrong eye, but there was no mistaking the Amari cheekbones. Or the look of stern disapproval that melted into joy as she leapt and hugged him. "Khalu Rein! I missed you so much!"

His eyes widened as she kissed his cheeks and stepped back. "It's me, Fareeha! Don't you recognize me? I've not gotten that old!"

He nodded quickly. "Of-of course I recognise you, Spatzi," he stammered. "I just didn't...It's been so long! How have you been? What have you been doing?"

She relaxed, smiled and slipped a hand around the waist of the woman beside her. "I was working for Helix in Giza, but when Winston called me back, I...well, he and Angela are very persuasive."

Reinhardt snorted and smiled as he looked at Angela. He nodded. "Ah, I see," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "And Frau Doctor," he added politely, "I trust that you will be taking care of my little Fareeha when she goes and does dangerous things?"

"Of course I will, Herr Ritter," Angela replied, the old game of excess formality still not played out between the two, even after all this time. "I would never let her be harmed." Her expression softened, and she smiled. "It is good to see you again, Reinhardt. The years have treated you well."

Reinhardt stiffened slightly and nodded. "It is good to see you too, Angela. You are looking as lovely as ever."

Something behind Fareeha and Angela caught Reinhardt's attention, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "You will have to excuse me a moment, ladies," he said quickly. "There is an old score left to settle, and my opponent has just come in."

The two watched as Reinhardt stalked towards the man who had just entered, and Angela shook her head. "He hasn't changed at all, has he, schäri?"

Fareeha shook her head as Reinhardt lifted McCree in a massive hug. "No, he hasn't," she said quietly. "Not one bit."


	2. Chapter 2

Two years had passed. Years of struggle and loss and, yes, even some glory. Overwatch had been re-establishing itself, slowly, surely, and he was there, at the forefront, every time. It was no longer just the men and women he had fought with all those years ago, old now and changed in ways he hadn't imagined - though who was he to judge? - but newcomers too. New heroes who took up the mantle of the old, and carried it forward, becoming heroes whose names would echo through the ages. And right behind them, the Old Guard, stolid and dependable and tireless.

He never thought of them, of the Old Guard, as fundamentally different than they had been before Overwatch fell, before they went their separate ways. Yes, their lives were hard, were full of difficulties, but they were still who they had always been. Even Jack, who had been through worse than most, was still the Commander, the fixed point in all the chaos. And Fareeha. Little Fareeha, who had climbed his chest and tugged his beard, was still the same girl, even if she had gotten an udjat, even if she had been hardened by years of battle. She was still his Spatzi.

And that was the problem. They were still them, even after all the years and hardships and horrors, and he was not.

***

Brigitte was furious, as he knew she would be. "What do you mean, leave?" She prodded him in the chest with her hammer to punctuate her question. "We can't - you can't - leave now! The organisation is coming back together and you're teaching the new kids old tricks. Isn't this what you wanted?"

Reinhardt shrugged and turned away, making a quick survey of his room. "Things have changed, Brigitte. I can't stay any more. You can, though."  
The hammer ricocheted off of his back, punching a dent into the wall. "Stay? I can stay? And what, let you go and die in some scummy village, surrounded by raiders, or with a bullet in your head from-"

"That wouldn't make much of an impact," he said softly as he continued packing his meagre belongings. "And even if it did, I'm sure the sparks would throw off the aim on the followup shots. Amélie is good, but she can still be shaken."

Brigitte voice wavered as she slammed a fist on his back. "Reinhardt, that is not funny, and you know it," she said, close to tears. "What happens if the Suit breaks down? What happens if you throw an actuator or tear a myomer bundle? You can't keep yourself running alone, and you know that!"

He sighed and turned to Brigitte, wrapping her in his arms. "I know that, Liebchen. I know."

***

Fareeha stood at ease in the doorway to his room, and quirked an eyebrow when she noticed the dent in the wall. "Khalu Rein," she said, and cleared her throat. "Khalu, can I ask you a question?"

He looked at Fareeha and, if he had not known her better, he would have sworn she was nervous. "Of course, Spätzchen," he said after a moment. "Come in, sit down. What is wrong? Tell your Khalu."

She sat on the edge of an unused desk chair, and watched him silently.

He coughed. "Fareeha?"

She sighed and rose, shaking her head. "I'm sorry to bother you, Khalu. It is not important."

"Don't lie to me Fareeha," he said as he stood. "It was important enough for you to come here and ask to talk. What is wrong, Spatzi? You can always talk to me."

"Can I?" she asked, the words flowing quickly from her mouth. "Can I really, Khalu? You disappeared when I was still in the army, and didn't try to contact me at all, and now?

Now you barely speak to me. Is it because of Angela? Because I won't-"

"No no no, Fareeha," he said quickly. "No, you and Angela are a happiness in my life, and I would never-"

"Then what, Khalu?" she exploded. "Is it because I remind you of Mamtee? Because she is not here and I shouldn't be punished because of that anymore."

"Fareeha, I am not punishing-"

"Then why have you ignored me for the last two years?"

He shook his head and stared silently at the ground.

"Fine," she said as she left the room. "Then don't speak to me until you can explain yourself."

The door slid shut quietly behind her.

***

Reinhardt was sprawled on a sofa, snoring softly, a worn hardcopy of Don Quixote on his chest. Jesse dropped into an armchair opposite him and nodded. "Reinhardt," he drawled.

Reinhardt opened an eye and nodded. "Jesse."

"Still usin' that photo of Ana as a bookmark, I see," he said, leaning forward.

Reinhardt sat up, tucking the photograph into the leaves of the book. "What of it?"

Jesse shook his head and grinned. "Nothin', really. Just funny you're usin' it with Don Quixote is all. Speakin’ of, mind if I ask a question?"

Reinhardt eyed Jesse with something like suspicion, then shrugged. "Even if I did, you would anyway. I appreciate you asking, though."

Jesse's grin broadened. "Much obliged. Now, do you suppose Ana knew she was your Dulcinea?"

Reinhardt sat back and stared at Jesse. "I would imagine so, but I certainly hope not. I would have been mortified. We were comrades, nothing more."

"Really?" Jesse said, "Nothing more? Because everyone thought that-"

"Be careful of what you say, McCree," Reinhardt bristled. "Why are you even bothering to ask this now?"

"Well," Jesse said after a moment's contemplation, "It's like this. Y'all were the glue that kept us together as a team. You were the family we all wanted to see, an' it was nice havin' you and Ana and Fareeha as our-"

Reinhardt shook his head and stood. "Enough, Jesse. Please. And anyway, how could I have replaced Fareeha's father?"

Jesse leaned back and raised his hands. "You mean you didn't already? C'mon, papa bear, you practically raised her when you and Ana weren't in the field. Hell, the Commander was even startin' to think about makin' so you two didn't get deployed together, in case somethin' untoward happened."

Reinhardt started. "What do you mean?"

"Y'can ask him yourself," Jesse said, "but Reyes told me that Morrison was plannin' on keepin' you two deployed separately, just so Fareeha'd always have one parent still."

Reinhardt shook his head and turned away. "No, you're wrong," he said softly. "And anyway, Fareeha never saw me as her..."

"You sure about that?" Jesse stood. "'Cause from where I'm standin' - and where most everyone else from the old days is standin' - she's found out that the one parent she's got left don't want much to do with her. And that," he said over his shoulder as he walked away, "that ain't something anyone should ever go through."

***

"You are the most frustrating man I have ever met." Angela sighed as she massaged the bridge of her nose. "You should let me do a physical at least, Reinhardt. It's been nearly three years, and you've not even gotten a cold. At the very least, you could help humanity by letting us finally get rid of that damned virus!"

He laughed and shook his head. "No, Frau Doctor, I am fine. If I ever need to be checked out, though, you will be the first one I come to. I promise."

She shrugged and turned to walk away. "You had better, Herr Ritter. I do not think Ana wants to be reunited with you just yet." She stopped short and turned to face him, a hand on her mouth. "Reinhardt, I'm sorry.”

Reinhardt shook his head. "Angela, it's alright," he said with a sad smile. "I have made my peace with her being gone long ago. But I promise you, if I feel ill, I will come to you immediately."

"Good." Angela nodded curtly and turned away.

"Besides," Reinhardt called after her, "how could I face Ana again were I felled by illness?"

***

The soft glow of a reading lamp filled the common room, stretching a single, massive shadow into the kitchenette. The door slid open quietly, the harsh light of the hallway framing a figure leaning wearily against the frame.

"Reinhardt?" Jack was surprised to see anyone still awake at this hour, but was glad it was him. "What are you doing up?"

Reinhardt closed the book he had been reading and stood. "I could not sleep. Glad to see you are home in one piece, Jack. How was Egypt?"

Jack sighed and slumped into the sofa. "It was...complicated," he said after a long moment. "I ran into some old friends. Found some very interesting information, too."

Reinhardt cocked an eyebrow and nodded. "You need tea, and then we will talk shop," he said as walked into the kitchenette. "It's always good to relax with a hot mug before getting into the nitty-gritty."

Jack nodded his thanks and sunk further into the cushions of the sofa.

"So," Reinhardt asked as he filled a kettle. "Which friends did you run into? Anyone that I know?"

He heard Jack sigh. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "Yeah, a few you do. Can we wait until the tea's ready? I'd rather not talk about it right now."

Reinhardt smiled and set the kettle on the stove. "That is understandable, my friend. Of course we can wait."

The harsh glare of the hall light strobed into the common room as door slid open and closed. "And does our newcomer want sugar for their tea?"

"I never take sugar, Wilhelm," said an achingly familiar voice from the doorway. "Or have you forgotten in your old age?"

Reinhardt froze, the sugar bowl falling from his hand and clattering to the floor. He slowly turned and faced cloaked figure. "Ana?"

She pulled the hood from her head and smiled gently as she stepped into the kitchen. "One and the same, hamin."

"Ana," he said quietly. "Ayooni, I thought you were-"

She smiled and shook her head as she neared him. "I know, I know," she said softly, "And I'm sorry, hamin. I will explain, I promise."

Reinhardt put his hands on his shoulders, checking her attempt at an embrace, and stared silently, his mind racing.

***

"So what are you going to do, Reinhardt?"

He watched as Brigitte ran two thick cables from the Suit to the table he was laying on. "I don't know, Liebchen," he said as she rolled his shirt up and opened the access hatches on his lower back. "I cannot explain to her what I am, not after all this time. And I cannot keep from telling her the truth, either."

Brigitte nodded as she hooked the first cable into its recepticle. "So tell her the truth," she said simply. "Tell her that a mad engineer transferred your consciousness from your dying body into your armour, and then into an artificial body she custom-ordered from a Numbani bunraku merchant."

Reinhardt laughed and shook his head as she hooked the second cable in. "No, I don't think she would take that well, Liebchen."

Brigitte shrugged as she opened a hatch on the Body's neck. "That's understandable. She might come after me after all, so I don't really recommend that you do it either. Are you sure about using the head and not the helmet?"

The Suit gave a thumbs-up. "Of course I am! Aleksandra and Hana think that I am a vain old man, too scared to hurt his pretty face when he goes into the field. I can't let that stand."

Brigitte nodded and unhooked the restraining bolt. "You know," she said as she brought the Body's head to the Suit, "If this gets bashed up any more, I'm going to have to suggest we buy stock in a synthetic skin manufacturer."

***

Ana gasped as she opened the door to the engineering bay. What she was seeing made no sense.

Brigitte was holding Wilhelm's - her Wilhelm's - head in her hands, while his body lay lifeless on a table, two massive cables running from his armour and into his spine. His head - her Wilhelm's head - was dripping some sort of fluid from an interface column, something an Omnic or a bunraku would have in place of a spine. She was saying something, something she couldn't hear.

Ana sunk against the doorframe. "What have you done?"

Brigitte whirled to face her, the fluid spraying an arc as she spun round. The Suit twitched and twisted, as if in surprise. As if it were alive.

"Ana! Brigitte! Hook it back in!" Reinhardt's voice boomed from a speaker as Brigitte hastily shoved his head onto the Suit’s shoulders. There was a pneumatic hiss, and Reinhardt opened his eyes.

"Ana, I can explain," he said, his voice coming from his mouth again.

"You had better," Ana said, her voice wavering as she leaned against the doorframe for support. "What is going on here, Wilhelm? What happened to...to you?"

Reinhardt's mouth worked silently, and he looked away. "I'm sorry," he said after a long moment. "I…I should have told you sooner. It was five years ago, in Québec..."

Ana listened, rapt, looking between the two as they filled in details for one another, as they explained how Brigitte had ignored his offer to bequeath his armour to her, how she instead spent eleven days cobbling together the Device that transferred his consciousness into its new home. How the Man from Numbani had eventually come through, had created a perfect, unaging replica of him, and how she had spent the better part of a year helping him learn to control his new bodies. How he had come to grips with the fact that he was no longer himself, but something – someone - new.

And when they stopped, she shook her head, speechless.

Brigitte looked at Ana and smiled wanly. "I'll leave you two alone," she said softly. "And Ana," she added as she passed the older woman, "I'm sorry, for-"

Ana shook her head raised a hand, silencing the younger woman. "No," she said, more sharply than she had intended. "No, Brigitte. You do not apologise. I…I owe you my thanks," she said, a small, sad smile stealing across her face. "For saving him. For being there when I could not. For everything, Brigitte."

Brigitte nodded and smiled, relief flooding her face. "Of course," she said. "It was what he'd have done anyway."

Ana nodded, and looked at Reinhardt from across the bay. "It is," she said.

Reinhardt ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I am sorry, Ana," he said after a moment. "I should have told you sooner, but I did not want you to think…to think that I am some sort of-"

"Hamin," she said softly, crossing the bay. "Hamin, you do not have to worry," she stood in front of him, dwarfed by his bulk, and reached out a hand. She stroked his cheek, her fingers tugging at his beard, and smiled as their eyes met. "Wilhelm, it's still you."

"Of course it is," he said quickly, gently pressing his fingers against her hand. "At least, as much of me as is-"

His words were smothered by her mouth.

Neither of them noticed the door to the engineering bay closing behind Brigitte as she left, nor the click of its hydraulic lock.


End file.
